Hoochie died at the age of 7
I had this wonderful mixed breed dog called Hoochie, whom I brought to work every day. Hoochie had been abandoned at one of the first clinics I worked at in Vancouver, and I soon fell in love and adopted him. He was a lanky, tan-colored, German shepherd mixed breed dog, with an especially prominent snout. We developed a strong bond almost immediately, and he seldom left my side.
He went wherever I went—to work, to the store; he would even follow me to the bathroom and wait outside the shower. He slept on my bed and took it as a mortal insult when I was dating someone who also happened to be occupying his space on the bed.Like “How could I?”
Hoochie traveled throughout British Columbia with me to various clinics, and across Canada and back—squished in the backseat, pinned next to overflowing luggage, but never complaining.He was present at my wedding to my wife Catherine, in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, howling as my brother Michael blew on the bagpipes.
Hoochie was trained in pet therapy—he volunteered his time visiting extended care homes in Vancouver and Nelson, British Columbia. While in Halifax, Nova Scotia, he became the first dog to officially provide pet therapy to sick children at the IWK Grace Children’s Hospital there (Hoochie and I initiated the organisation of the first Pet Visitation Program at the Children’s Hospital—it became a huge success with many dogs and their owners visiting sick children).
As a veterinarian, I felt it was important that I do whatever I could to keep Hoochie healthy and avoid so many of the diseases that I regularly saw in veterinary practice.I was of the belief that a certain type of pet food was crucial in staying healthy—dry only,“veterinary approved” kibble. Hoochie was fed only this common, conventional dog food for his short life.I advised clients to give their pets the yearly shots (or vaccines), typically with four to seven components being given every year, and I gave these multiple vaccines every year to Hoochie.
When Hoochie was six years old, he had difficulty getting up, would often limp after running, and had palpable discomfort over his left hip. I diagnosed him with arthritis, so I was giving him a fairly potent daily anti-inflammatory medication.
I eventually did a blood test on Hoochie, hoping that all he had was an easy-to-fix abscessed tooth. The blood results revealed serious anemia, with a damaged type of red cell called a schistocyte, consistent with spleen cancer. I followed this up with X-rays, further enhancing my suspicions of spleen cancer, and an ultrasound confirmed it.
Hoochie had a large splenic mass, likely hemangiosarcoma.
Spleen tumors follow the 50/50/50 rule: fifty percent of spleen tumors are benign (noncancerous), fifty percent of spleen tumors are malignant (cancerous), and of the cancerous ones, only fifty percent of those have spread by the time of diagnosis.
This means that surgery can be a great option and an immediate solution. I just hoped that Hoochie had the noncancerous type, or at least the type that had yet to spread. I performed surgery on Hoochie right away and removed the spleen tumor. But the tumor had already spread; during the surgery I could see cancerous masses growing on his liver.
I knew he had only a short while to live, and exactly twenty-one days after surgery Hoochie died.
I reflected on my life with Hoochie and also about cancer in pets,and I came to believe that I had played a role in Hoochie’s death.
I questioned what I did to contribute to my own dog’s cancer—and what I might be doing to my client’s pets.I questioned why I believed in utilizing only “conventional” veterinary medicine to heal pets.
I questioned all the “scholarly information” that I had been taught in veterinary school. And, I did some deep soul-searching.
It happened because I didn’t question modern veterinary medicine.I gave Hoochie harmful medication (monthly flea meds, anti-inflammatories), fed him “veterinary approved” food, and injected his body yearly with far too many vaccines.
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